


What's Eating Morty Smith?

by havokwreaker (wryandwatchful)



Category: Rick and Morty
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, BAMF Morty, BAMF Rick, Beth and Jerry are oblivious, C137cest, CSA, Depression, Dreams and Nightmares, Drug Use, Drug-Induced Sex, Drunk Rick, Drunkenness, Eventual Smut, Freudian Slips, Frottage, M/M, Minor Character Death, Morty is dealing with shit badly, Non-Penetrative Sex, Plot Twists, Protective Rick, Rape Aftermath, Rape Recovery, Rick is the dumbest smart person, Slow Burn, Suicidal Thoughts, Summer is Summer, Tasteful frottage, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Unhealthy Relationships, rickmorty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-09
Updated: 2017-08-14
Packaged: 2018-11-30 02:10:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,104
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11453772
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wryandwatchful/pseuds/havokwreaker
Summary: An alternate take on the final events of "Meeseeks and Destroy" with a healthy dose of angst and plot twists. Dark themes ahead, so beware!





	1. Wishful Thinking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Morty Smith wished for many things in his short life, but on that day- the day a stranger named Mr. Jellybean pushed him face-first into the sink of the men's bathroom- he wished he hadn't made that stupid bet.

Morty Smith wished for a lot of things in his life.

On his fourth birthday he wished for a better sister, in return Summer shoved his face into his cake and everyone shared a laugh at his expense. At age ten, walking home in the dark, he wished his mother wouldn't drink so much. Maybe then she would've remembered to pick him up from football tryouts. Instead he'd been forced to walk home alone through the dim-lit city streets where drug dealers heckled as he passed. When he was thirteen and sitting alone at lunch thinking of a way to off himself, he wished for a friend. Barely a year later he'd get _that_ wish granted at least, even if it was in the form of his sixty year-old grandfather.

 

But on _this_  day- the day a stranger named Mr. Jellybean pushed him face-first into the sink of the men's bathroom of an alien dimension- Morty Smith wished he hadn't made that stupid bet.

 

The hand fisted in his hair tightened and the creature behind him pressed closer, mouthing wetly against the boy's cheek. “Just let this happen.” The thing warned, its sickly sweet breath reminding Morty of rotting toffee apples.

 

Ice-cold dread hit like a swift punch to the gut as the full meaning of the words sank in. Warning bells went off in his brain, stirring him to fight for his life to break free of the jellybean’s vice-like grip. It spun Morty in its grasp and shoved roughly, sending the teen stumbling backwards into the stall. His knees hit the toilet and he fell back hard against the porcelain seat, whining as cold water began to soak into the ass of his jeans where he'd fallen in a little. “No! Stop! Please!” He begged as the man approached again and swung a fist for good measure.

The sickening telltale crack resonated in the cramped space, confirming a landed punch to the jellybean's eye that would surely swell shut within minutes. With a snarl of rage it grabbed a fistful of Morty's shirt and hauled the boy up off the seat. “You're gonna be sorry you did that.” It snarled and threw Morty to the ground. The teen flung his arms out to break his fall and managed to roll onto his back before the creature was on him again. It seethed with rage, and with an iron-like grip clutching Morty’s jaw it proceeded to bash the teen’s head against the floor once- twice-three times, until he went limp.

 

“Little bitch.” The creature spat.

 

\---

 

“Yeah, m-my grandson is b- he’s being a little b- _ **uurrp**_ -itch right now,” Rick took a sip of his flask and eyed the weird amorphous slug to his left dealing a deck of cards. Despite the fact that it was wearing gloves, it somehow still managed to drench the cards in whatever viscous yellow goo its kind were composed of. “He dragged my ass out here, and now he's - he's fucking _pouting_ in the bathroom l-like some chick who got dumped at the goddamn ‘Enchantment Under the Sea’ dance.” Rick scooped up his cards and gave them a little flick, a few flecks of slime landing on an opponent's face.

 

Rick knew he had been rough on Morty. Hell, he had been purposefully acting blazé throughout the whole adventure in an attempt to make Morty call off the whole thing, thus winning Rick the bet. The kid was tougher than Rick had thought though, and from getting arrested and tried by a jury of their giant peers, to scaling down the sheer faces of multiple titanic stairs the kid hadn't quit. A part of Rick was proud of him for it. He swore under his breath and checked his watch. "I've got time." With a flick of his wrist he tossed two coins into the steadily growing pile at the center of the table. "I bet ten Schmeckles."

 

\---

 

Morty tasted blood.

 

He came to gradually, eyes focusing and unfocusing as his brain tried to identify what he was seeing. It looked like...

The second he realized what it was panic struck him again in an awesome wave. He had only been unconscious for a few minutes, but in that time Mr. Jellybean had stripped him from the waist down and manipulated his body until he was positioned over the toilet seat. Both hands wete bound in front of him and tied somewhere behind the back of the bowl, effectively pinning his face and chest to the seat. It was from this position- trapped and dazed-  that he saw what he could only rationally assume was the unsheathed dick of the creature behind him.

 

A scream tore itself from Morty’s throat as he felt the blunt head breech him. He tried to squirm away from the intrusion but the creature followed, chasing the boy's hips with his own and driving in deeper. Morty kicked his legs back and forth trying to knock it back, but it simply laughed and pressed a foot to his calve, pinning it with force hard enough that he could feel the bones creaking under the weight. Tears welled up in the teen’s eyes and he bit the inside of his cheek to stifle a sob.

 

“You're fucking cute when you cry.” The man  cackled and bucked his hips, drawing another pained wail from the boy.

 

Morty tried to fight back the tears, but as the minutes continued to tick by with no sign of rescue, the outcome had become considerably bleak. ‘ _You always were a weakling, Morty_.’ He could practically hear the scathing remark from Rick; could picture the look of disappointment on his face when he learned how easily his grandson had been overpowered.

 

Morty hated to admit it, but most of the time with his grandfather was spent trying to earn the cruel man's approval. Any time his name or words of praise spilled from those harsh lips, the boy could feel his heart pound a little faster. His dick gave a half-hearted twitch at the thought and he felt his stomach roll. _What the fuck was wrong with him?_

“Morty?”

 

He didn't have to imagine it now. Rick had entered the bathroom and actually called out his name. He was saved. Before Morty could open his mouth to scream for help, the jellybean clapped a hand over it tightly.

 

Rick peered around the seemingly empty bathroom, grinning when his eyes finally settled on the one closed stall in the whole place. “C’mon, open up, Morty.” He rapped the back of his knuckles on the door. The distinct sound of sniffling could be heard from behind it. “Are- are you _crying?_ ” Hard tiles dug into the older man's knees as he knelt down to peek under the stall.

“What the fuck-” Rick's gaze was fixed on the bloodied face of his grandson. His heart leapt into his throat as he trailed his eyes from the hand covering Morty’s mouth, up the creature's twig-thin arm, and down to where it looked like the thing was-

 

In an instant Rick stood up and drew his laser pistol- a shot to the lock would do it. With deadly precision he squeezed the trigger and blasted a hole through the side of the door, following it up with a hard kick that sent it swinging inwards. It collided harshly with the thing defiling his grandson, pitching it forward with a sickening crack and rendering it momentarily unconscious against the boy. “Morty,” Rick’s frantic hands dragged the body off the teen and threw it the floor in a graceless heap. “Jesus, Morty, are you-”

 

“Don't,” The teen interrupted weakly, hiding his face in his shoulder. “Please, Rick. Just…just don't.” His voice wavered on the last words, tears threatening to choke him. He didn't want Rick to see him like this, and he definitely didn't want to talk to him about it.

 

Rick nodded solemnly and knelt down beside the boy, producing small tool from his lab coat. With the press of a button a simple blade shot out of the front, making quick work of the material binding Morty’s wrists behind the toilet. Within seconds Morty was freed and on his feet, instinctively covering his privates and blushing a deep crimson as he looked anywhere but at Rick. The discomfort was tangible in the small space, so the older man chose to look for the boy's discarded jeans, finally spotting them balled up on the floor outside of the stall. He scooped them up and handed them to Morty, exiting the cramped space to give the kid a little privacy. Not that it mattered, but Morty appreciated the gesture all the same.

 

There was already a portal open and waiting when Morty emerged, the green plasma swirling and ebbing invitingly with the promise of home. "Rick?” Morty turned to look where his grandfather stood over the unconscious body of the jellybean. “Are you coming?”

 

The older man's expression was calm, but there was a definite tension in his body language that belied the building rage beneath the surface. "Go on ahead, Morty. I-I’ll catch up.” Rick deadpanned, eyes never leaving the wheezing mass on the floor. As the portal closed behind Morty, tears pinpricked the man's vision at the dawning realization that had been hisfault. Guilt consumed his mind as the jellybean began to stir.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edited on Sept.1st.


	2. Freudian Ricks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Morty tries to relax but after a shocking discovery he realizes he's not the only one with "mixed feelings". Title is a play on Freudian slips. (Bonus points if you spot the ep3:02 reference!)

In the blink of an eye Morty passed through the portal and emerged into the garage. The sun had long since set, and darkness was a mystery of curves and lines as he felt along the walls for the light switch. Harsh fluorescent bulbs flickered to life, blinding Morty briefly and bathing the room in light, illuminating the various tools and contraptions lining the shelves. He pressed his ear to the door, barely catching the muffled vibrations of a conversation between his mom and dad from in the living room.

 

Morty was careful to avoid his parents as he slipped out of the garage and made his way through the house towards the stairs. He couldn't bear the thought of having to explain to his mother where the blood drying under his nose had come from. Beth idolized Rick in a way that the boy could understand implicitly. She fetishized the extraordinary, and her father was every bit that and more. Cold and critical but unerring in his brilliance, he was as much of a god to her as he was to Morty. If a childhood without her father was enough to drive Beth to drink, Morty didn't want to think how she'd cope with finding out what had happened to her son while under the man's care.

 

Morty was drawn from his thoughts by the roaring sound of water firing from the shower head as he twisted the faucet handle. The bathroom was the _last_ place he wanted to be and he could already feel cold tendrils of anxiety clawing up his back from the predicament, but he needed to get clean. The smell of that _creature_ seemed to permeate through his clothes and clung to his skin like sweat.

 

He quashed the panic building inside of him and stripped out of his clothes before stepping under the steaming spray- just the right side of scalding hot- and slid the shower curtain closed with a rattling _shunk!_

Clear water became pink as Morty scrubbed the blood away from his nose, watching as it spiraled between his feet and down the drain in an unending cyclone. It reminded him of the ebb and flow of the portals he and Rick traveled through. The boy's mind swirled with images of their adventures, predominantly of ones where things went wrong. 'Like yesterday...' He thought.

Morty grit his teeth. This next part was going to hurt. With shaking legs he turned under the spray, spreading his thighs and parting his cheeks.

Scorching pain seared through him when the water touched broken skin, driving Morty to his knees. He hissed through his teeth at the wave of pain and the panic he'd tried to suppress came rushing back with such force it was nearly suffocating. The boy lurched forward, bracing himself on his elbows, and let out a wail. The gasping cry echoed pitifully against the ceramic walls of the shower.

He stayed like that- doubled over and sobbing- until the hot water faded into cold and his skin long since pruned. Needless to say, he didn't sleep well that night.

 

\---

 

Rick arrived home a few hours after Morty. By that time the rest of the family had gone to bed and he was safe from prying eyes while he stored _something_ beneath the garage.

 

The metal hatch snapped shut with a loud click. With a scowl Rick threw the worn rug back over it, concealing the entrance once again. The sub-basement lab had been an essential construction project immediately upon Rick's return to Earth a year earlier. A little habit he'd picked up during his smuggling days on Krobus 9. You never knew who- _Jerry-_ could come snooping around- _Jerry-_ looking for things that were both very dangerous and incredibly expensive- _fucking Jerry._ It may have taken quite a bit of time and more than a little elbow grease, but you'd be surprised how much excavating one can get done when they don't sleep at night.  

 

_‘Speaking of sleep.’_ Rick thought to himself as he checked his watch. Bright green digital numbers informed him it was twelve minutes past four in the morning. Cold eyes lingered on a speck of blood covering the last digit. Rick wet the edge of his labcoat with his tongue and scrubbed away the offending mark. Make that _sixteen_ minutes past four. A weary sigh passed Rick's lips and he stretched. A few hours of sleep might do him some good. With one last scowl thrown the direction of the hatch, he exited the garage and locked the door behind him.

 

The couch would have to do for tonight, he decided. He couldn't stomach passing Morty’s bedroom on the way to his own. Just the thought of the sniffling teen stirred up mixed emotions in him. Anger, pity, revulsion, affection, and even a heady twinge of arousal that brought with it a new wave of self-hatred. Several large swigs from his flask extinguished those feelings long enough for the older man to doze off, falling into a fitful sleep.

 

\---

 

“Morty, honey?” Beth's sweet voice called from the hallway outside the teen’s bedroom. She cracked the door open slightly, catching a glimpse of Morty pulling a shirt over his head. “Oops, sorry. I didn't know you were up. Um, breakfast is ready.” Beth closed the door and walked back downstairs. She could've sworn she'd seen a bruise on Morty’s chest, but simply chalked it up to the morning sunlight casting shadows. The alternative was just impossible in her mind.

 

“Thanks Mom…” Morty mumbled and finished dressing himself, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. Truth be told he'd been awake for a while now, having had an  _unsettling_  dream to say the least. He could still recall the way Rick’s hands had turned to claws against his hips just before he'd been torn from it. The clattering of pots and pans in the kitchen as his mother cooked breakfast did little to lull him back to sleep.

 

He descended the steps carefully. With each each slight jostle, a sharp jolt of pain would shoot up his spine, reminding Morty of what had transpired the previous day- as though he could forget. By the time the boy reached the dining room his appetite had long since left him, replaced with the feeling of nausea instead.  He fought trembling legs as slid his chair out.

As soon as his rear touched the wooden seat, Morty let out a sharp gasp as another twinge of pain stabbed through him.

"Shit." He muttered. His eyes shot up to see if anyone at the table had noticed.

Summer kept texting, and continued to chew her mouthful of hash browns, while Beth and Jerry were too busy bickering to pay attention to their obviously distressed son.

Morty was relieved, but then he noticed Rick was staring at him. The older man's face bore the unmistakable expression of revulsion. His cold blue eyes were wide, studying Morty carefully with his brow creased, the line of his mouth dropping slowly to a frown.

Rick dropped his fork and stood abruptly, scraping his chair loudly against the floor. A muttered, “I have stuff to do,” was all that was thrown Morty’s way as the older man left the room.

 

“What's _his_ deal?” Summer drawled, not bothering to look up from her phone.

 

Jerry laughed mirthlessly, throwing his hands out wide. “Well, when you spend all day drinking, who knows what little thing will set you off?” Beth scowled at her husband's remark.

“Was that some kind of personal dig at me?”

 

The teen sighed and pushed his plate away. The looming argument put him even further off his meal. “Can I be excused?” He asked quietly, eye's fixed on Rick’s empty chair, avoiding the questioning look in his mother's eyes as she turned to him.

 

“Oh. Well sure, sweetie.” She patted his hand gently before glaring back at Jerry. “Seriously though, what did you mean by that?”

 

Their bickering faded into the background as Morty stood to leave the room, making his way to the garage after his grandfather.

 

The door opened easily. Usually Rick kept it locked to keep out certain people - _Jerry._ He peered in and looked around the room, but Rick was nowhere to be seen.

 His eyes locked on to the rug in the center of the room. Something was off about it.  One corner of it seemed bunched up. Upon closer inspection, the boy noticed it was caught under a door, propping it open slightly. Why hadn't Rick told him about this? Morty gripped the metal and pulled, revealing a hole with a ladder leading down into semi-darkness. Shouting could be heard from below and a dark shadow cast itself across the floor just beneath the bottom of the ladder. Morty cast one last look around the garage before descending into the room below.

 

The shouting increased in volume the further down he climbed.

 

“-damn piece of shit! Y-you, you fucking bastard!” The hair on the back of Morty’s neck raised like thousands of pin-pricks.

 

That voice - it was Rick’s. Who was he speaking to?

 

The sick _THWACK! ...CRACK! ...CRUNCH!..._ of bare fists connecting with flesh met the teen’s ears as he reached the bottom of the ladder, and as he turned to face the source of the sound he gasped. It was the jellybean creature, strapped to the wall by shackles on his wrists and ankles, with blood pouring from his nose and mouth.

 

  _And Rick was beating the absolute hell out of him._

 

“How could you!? You! Fucking! Fucker!” With every strained word his grandfather would deliver yet another bone-cracking strike the whimpering confection. Anger radiated from him as he let out a shrill yell. “How!?  ** _He's your grandson you sick fuck_ ** _!!!”_

 

Morty gasped _._

 

Rick spun around on the spot, fixing the teen with a glare. His irises appeared to glow an ethereal blue, something was different.

“What the fuck are _you_ doing h- down here?” The older man growled, words sounding more like a threat than a question as he clenched and relaxed his bruised hands anxiously.

 

Morty was silent as he walked towards the quaking man, tearful brown eyes never leaving the strange icy ones even as he snaked a hand into Rick’s labcoat. His fingers traced and tapped against a hardness. With a shaky exhale and a swift flick of the wrist the teen gripped it and pulled it free-

 

a plasma pistol.

 

Rick didn't have time to react as the teen squeezed the trigger twice, never looking away as the molten projectiles tore through the jellybean's face and head. Morty blinked slowly and held the gun out to the older man. “Th-There. Now we-we’re _both_ accountable.”

 

Rick saw himself move in slow motion as he knocked the gun from Morty’s hand. He threaded his fingers through the teen’s hair, crashing his lips against the other's and groaning appreciatively when they went slack, melting into the kiss.

 

No, not melting… burning. Rick was surely burning from the feeling of finally giving in and taking what he wanted from the boy. He poured himself into it, raking his fingers down Morty’s back and pulling him flush against his body, delighted by the little whimpering noises the action drew from him. Rick pulled away and gazed at the teen’s tear-streaked face. “You're fucking cute when you cry.” He growled.

 

It was as though Morty had been electrocuted. He shoved Rick away from him, his face completely devoid of the red blush that had previously colored his skin. Why?Why would he-? Without uttering a word the teen turned and ran toward the ladder, ascending it quickly to escape the claustrophobic feeling rapidly growing in the room.

 

Rick stood dumbstruck in the silence that followed. He rubbed his nose with the back of a hand. "Oh shit...”

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone, sorry for the delay on chapter 2. I was feeling very VERY bad about a week ago and I felt I needed a break from things for a while. I'm feeling much better now, and I would encourage anyone who's feeling the same too seek help. It DOES get better, and there are many people who can help you if you're feeling suicidal or homicidal. You're NOT weak for getting help!
> 
> Tldr; I was in the hospital getting well. 
> 
> I'm very glad to see the response the first chapter of this got, so i gladly present you all the second chapter of What's Eating Morty Smith!


	3. Crystal Courage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The situation comes to a head as Morty is forced to act on his desires. How will the inebriated Rick handle the situation, and what secrets will be learned in the process?

 

 

Crystal Kalaxian was a tricky little substance.  
  
  
Made from chopping up crystals from dimension X27, it was famous for turning any uncomfortable situation into an “enjoyable experience.” Rick had become addicted the first time he tried it, enraptured by the sensations it caused him. It was like feeling real happiness again, he thought.   
  
  
Yes, the Kalaxian powder was a powerful upper and soon- just three weeks after its discovery, in fact - the drug had amassed a broad number of users all across the galaxy.   
  
  
Think of it as if Cocaine and Ecstasy had a baby that grew up and became addicted to Molly. That's how K-Lax felt.     
  
  
“Shit! Morty, w-wait! It's not what you think!” The words tumbled out of Rick’s mouth as he vaulted up the ladder, “I can explain!” He'd gone for the substance shortly after waking up, retrieving it from one of the various drawers in his lab. After snorting two thin lines of the stuff, he shoved it in his lab coat for later.   
  
  
The old man dug his fingers into his scalp and pressed as if trying to shove the memories of last night's incident into the back of his mind. Beating up Mr. Jellybean was the closest he could get to silencing the guilt-ridden thoughts his mind kept conjuring up. The K-Lax had helped him pummel the creature, numbing the pain in his sore knuckles and giving him the strength to crack bones with his blows.   
  
  
Then Morty had shown up. The way the brunette looked at him had stirred up all manner of emotions in him until the drug in his system forced him to act.   
  
  
Rick shook his head. No, he knew that wasn't the whole story. He'd wanted to kiss Morty at that moment; the K-Lax was just doing what it did best: latching on to a powerful emotion and turning it into an “enjoyable experience” ... for a few minutes at least.   
  
  
The old man rolled up his sleeves and sighed in resignation. The K-Lax had failed, so it was time for the good old standby; vodka... a whole lot of vodka. Luckily for the scientist, there was a fresh bottle of it in a box by his bed, so with one last sigh of frustration he left the lab and headed for his room.   
  
  
Hours passed with no sign of Morty, though after that morning who could blame the boy? Time seemed to fly by quicker with each refill of the flask, and by late afternoon Rick was so intoxicated that he was struggling to keep his eyes open. He fought to stay conscious, and moments later his eyelids slide shut of their own accord.   
  
  
  
\---   
  
  
  
At around the same time, Rick had fallen asleep, Morty slipped out of the garage, nearly colliding with Beth in the kitchen.   
  
  
His mother smiled down at him. “Hi, sweetie.” She said. “Isn't that Rick's coat?”   
  
  
Morty shifted his eyes away and tucked the article under his arm. “Um...y-yeah. It's for ho- a homework thing. F-for science class.”   
  
  
“Aww, my little genius.” Beth ruffled his hair affectionately and let him by, clapping her hands over her heart once he was out of sight. “Rick really seems to be rubbing off on him.” She smiled.   
  
  
The teen's heart felt like it was going to leap out of his chest as closed his bedroom door behind him, leaning his shoulder against it heavily. He knew that once his mom saw his report card next month, he would have to explain why he still had F’s in all subjects. Morty wouldn't be around for the fallout of that particular bombshell, though.   
No, he wouldn't be around for anything soon, because the real reason he wanted Rick’s lab coat wasn't for class; it was for the multitude of weapons contained in its pockets.   
  
  
Primarily the plasma pistol, Morty hoped.   
  
  
A quick squeeze of the trigger was all that stood between him and the peaceful allure of the nothingness- no pain, no memories, no feelings, just darkness and an escape from the damning words that clawed forward in his mind since last night.   
  
  
‘You liked it.’ One accused. ‘You got hard, so you liked it.’   
  
  
Morty took a shuddering breath “No,” he countered aloud and began to rifle through the pockets of the lab coat. Where the hell was the gun?   
  
  
‘You liked it when Rick kissed you, too.’ Another chimed in.   
  
  
That particular obsession had been a sore subject in his mind for months. The teen had been fostering some rather unhealthy thoughts about his grandfather although he did his best to hide it. Unfortunately, that morning he'd been thrown headlong back into it when Rick pulled him close and kissed him like it was the last thing the man would ever do. How could he, though? After what Morty had been through only hours before?   
  
  
‘You kissed him back.’ The final thought brought with it a wave of nausea that nearly bowled him over. Tears stung at the corners of his eyes.   
  
  
_Where was the damn gun?! The one he'd torn from one of these very pockets?! The one he'd shot the creature downstairs with, the one_ \- the one that Rick had sent spiraling out of his hand and out of sight somewhere into the shadows of the subterranean chamber.   
  
  
Anger washed over him at the realization, driving him to throw the coat onto his bed with a shout. “Damn it!” The article landed in a heap, the various items in its pockets rattling as they knocked together.  Morty’s eyes caught sight of something- a bag peeking out of one of the inner pockets? The vibrant pink color of its contents was nearly blinding to the teen’s eyes. With trembling hands, he pulled the bag free and inspected it closely. Somebody had hastily scribbled the words “Kalaxian Crystal” on it with a black marker. Though he didn't know what it was, Morty had seen “Pulp Fiction” enough times to learn that snorting random powder could be deadly even in small amounts, so it would have to do.   
  
  
He shook two modest piles of the iridescent powder out onto his writing desk and pulled a small science fair ribbon off the wall. Morty frowned at the item -“Participation Award” - it read in a tiny white font. He rolled the stiff fabric up like a straw and brought it to his nose. With an awkward motion, he dragged the makeshift tube over the powder, successfully drawing the drug up his nostril.   
  
  
Morty threw his head back immediately and coughed, scrubbing at his face with a free hand and loudly gagging as he blinked back tears “Who does this for fun?!” He coughed. The image of his grandfather came to him unbidden and frightening.   
  
  
‘Don't.’ Morty thought. ‘Don't think about him.’ The brunette switched the tube over to the other nostril. The second line didn't burn as badly as the first did, largely due to the fact that his nose was gradually becoming numb as the drug took effect. His _other_ pain was fading too, swept away like a little boat in a great stream, replaced with a constant pleasant buzzing in his fingers and toes. The teen ran his fingers across the bedspread, delighting in the tactile sensations the action drew.   
  
  
This stuff was powerful.   
  
  
For the next three hours, he tried to overdose, snorting line after line of the powder until the bag was nearly empty. As the high swept over him for the umpteenth time, Morty sat on his bed and reached for Rick’s coat. There had to be something else in those pockets he could use to off himself. Every brush of the fabric against the brunette’s fingertips sent pinpricks of pleasure across his brain. He brought the material to his face, basking in how it felt against his skin. Without being fully aware of it, the boy nuzzled the coat and inhaled deeply, the scent of pure alcohol and ash clinging to the fibers like a stain.   
  
  
Morty felt himself twitch in his jeans and shut his eyes tight against the heat stirring in his stomach, willing it to fade. However, the Kalaxian powder had already taken hold of the thought, and soon images of Rick filled the boy's mind, only fueling the fire stirring in his blood.   
  
  
Morty felt like he was watching himself from far away as he shrugged the lab coat over his shoulders and walked out the door towards Rick’s room. With crystal courage coursing through his veins, he twisted the handle and pushed, stepping inside the dim-lit bedroom.   
  
  
\---   
  
  
Rick was dreaming. More aptly, remembering the events that occurred moments before his grandson’s assault, powerless to change anything as the scenes rolled past.   
  
  
  
_** “If you haven't learned to roll with the punches when I get back, t-then don't be here!” Morty shouted and stomped off towards the bathroom._   
  
  
_Rick rolled his eyes and propped an elbow on the table of the booth. “Whatever,” he sighed dismissively. It was obvious that what the teen really wanted was for Rick to follow him, stuttering apologies and possibly praise for how well he'd taken charge throughout the day's little misadventures._   
_He was desperate for Rick’s attention, that much was certain. Hell, that's what the whole bet had been about; just getting Rick’s attention. If he went after the brunette now, he would be playing into his hands._   
  
  
_A better idea slowly formed in the scientist’s mind. He would have someone rough Morty up a bit, and then, at the last possible moment, he'd swoop in and save the day, securely winning their wager, and even more, earning himself admiration from the enamored teen._   
  
  
_“H-hey_ **_you_ ** _, what's your name?” Rick pointed to a figure at the bar with a wide sweep of his arm._   
  
  
_The periwinkle gray creature sat his drink down on the countertop and turned. “Me? Well,” he chuckled warmly and approached the booth where Rick sat, giving a graceful bow as he introduced himself. “My name’s Mr.Jellybean.”_   
  
  
_Rick beckoned for him to lean in closer with a smirk. “Wanna help me win a bet?”  The cunning elder whispered conspiringly._   
  
  
_The creature grinned and flashed its crooked yellow teeth approvingly at Rick. “Oh absolutely.”_ **   
  
  
The jellybean, as well as the bar and its inhabitants, faded before Rick’s eyes, replaced with the muddy darkness of his bedroom.   
The confused man groaned, unsure as to what was happening through the fog in his brain. _Someone_ was on top of him. A single light flickered by the door, bathing the room- and the person above him- in shadows so deep that Rick doubted his eyes.   
  
  
_It couldn't be._   
  
  
He stifled a groan as the shadow rolled it's hips and suddenly the silver-haired man became very aware that he was out and incredibly hard. How long had this been going on? As he tried to sit up a pair of hands shot out and pinned his wrists to the mattress above his head. The action drew the figure closer until they were face-to-face with the scientist.

 

“Morty?” Rick slurred, damning the effect the alcohol had on his body and mind as he tried to focus. His eyes had to be lying to him.  
  
  
Wide electric blue irises gave away the boy's compromised condition as did the lab coat nearly engulfing his slight form. ‘He must've found my stash of K-Lax.’ Rick thought. The man fought to speak as dark tendrils of pleasure pooled in his gut and risked a glance down, regretting it immediately. His breathing hitched on a heavy moan at the sight of the exposed member sliding against his.   
  
  
Morty shuddered at the guttural sound and leaned heavier on the man's wrists as he rocked his hips faster. Vibrating ripples of arousal tore through the brunette, drawing a breathless whine from his lips. He'd only just started but the drug in his system amplified every tantalizing brush of his length against the older man's, pleasure quickly building until the only words tumbling from Morty’s mouth were “Yes,” “Rick, “ and “Please” as he neared the edge.   
  
  
Rick grit his teeth. With the last of his strength, the scientist tried to roll the gyrating boy off of him, only succeeding in brushing their arousals together again as he bucked his hips. The action stoked the fire in his blood ever higher and in an instant he felt as if he were a spring being coiled tighter and tighter, waiting for the freedom of release. The feeling swept over him, chasing the breath out of him with a wounded groan and drawing his back off the bed in a low arc.   
  
  
Morty gazed with wide eyes at the sight of Rick coming undone beneath him, everything from the noises he made to the way the man's length pulsed against his was pure perfection. Hips lost their rhythm as the teen felt himself reaching his peak, and with a few last studdering thrusts he let go. With a high pitched keen he spilled himself over Rick’s stomach, adding to the dark stains that speckled the man's shirt. It was truly both the happiest and most depraved Morty had ever been in his life.     
  
  
As the aftershocks faded so did the teen's high and he trembled as he looked down at his drunk and disheveled grandfather. “R-Rick?” He whispered, afraid of what the man might do. Finally relinquishing the grip he had on the man's wrists, Morty climbed off the bed and tucked himself back into his jeans. The thoughts came rushing back. “I- I'm sorry...I...I don't know why I-” The brunette stifled  a sob and fell to his knees, burying his head in his hands.   
  
  
Rick zipped his pants and sat up, head spinning queasily from the alcohol as well as the rush of post-orgasmic endorphins. “Y-you were on K-Lax, Morty. It makes- ….It's for making-...It's- it's for sex, Morty.” Rick stammered, damning himself against the lie.   
  
  
“For s-sex?” The boy sniffed and looked up at Rick with tearful eyes. The scientist studied them for a moment, telling himself it was to check the boy's irises rather than to bask in the look of complete trust in those eyes.  

 

“Yeah, Morty. It's like Viagra or-or Rohypnol.” He rolled off the bed gracelessly and crawled to Morty. “It makes- will make you do things you w-wouldn't normally do.” He was telling the truth; just not all of it. Crystal Kalaxian only amplified desires already present in the user. Some part of Morty wanted Rick, and with a growing sense of dread the man suspected it was his own fault.

 

Eventually he managed to get Morty unsteadily back on his feet and guide him back towards the bed, noticing the way the brunette seemed to tense in his grip. Pulling down the covers, he gestured for the boy to climb under them. “It's okay, Morty.” He sighed, feigning disinterest as he had so many times before. As the teen positioned himself on one side the older man pulled the blanket up over his grandson’s shoulders and lay down too, creating a sort of makeshift barrier between them both with the blanket.  
  
  
“It wasn't your fault, kid.” Rick said. He rolled onto his side, facing away from the boy, to hide the frown that'd etched it's way onto his face. “It wasn't _your_ fault.”

  


Rick wished he hadn't made that bet.  


  
\---

  
**_*END*_ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for the support on my first Rickmorty fic. I hope to refine my style over time and bring even more fics your way! 
> 
> (Beta'd by Pandarifixx Thank you so much, my dude!)

**Author's Note:**

> Based on an anonymous prompt from my Tumblr. 
> 
> "Angsty Rickmorty prompt // King Jellybean aftermath; Morty withdrawing so much after, Rick noticing and genuinely trying to make things better. Bonus points if Rick 'purges' King Jellybean"
> 
> This turned out longer than expected. Chapter 2 will be posted next week!


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